Chapter 2

The next day, Saturday, we had some housework piled up and decided it was time to get our act together and tidy up a bit in the morning. Carla did the laundry as she usually did these days (it was her chore-of-choice because she didn’t have to bend down), I did some serious floor- and tile-scrubbing, and Emily swept and vacuumed. Emerging from our en-suite bathroom just as Carla was stretching the last corner of a fresh sheets over the bed, I noticed that she’d put the plastic mattress protector down first. We’d last used that mattress protector when we experimented that one time with Carla peeing on me; it hadn’t really done much for either of us, so we’d never tried that again, and after we’d stripped the bed and done the wash, the mattress protector went into the back of a drawer somewhere. Fortunately Carla didn’t seem to notice that I had seen the protector, but, thinking back to how I’d come clean with her the night before about Emily’s and my past, I realized that she must have something in mind, and I felt myself stiffening as I thought about the implications. I realized she must intend for Emily to end up in our bed and, moreover, to have an orgasm there, one way or another, and she was planning ahead for the inevitable flood. I just hoped she planned on my being there too. I decided I wouldn’t say anything and would let Carla’s scheme, whatever it was, unfold and see what happened.

I spent the whole day in a kind of pleasant, slightly feverish anticipation. Carla and Emily were walking around in just their pregnancy briefs, as usual; these days they were almost always topless. Emily, in her usual brash way, had complained multiple times to Carla that she kept “leaking down there” and needed the briefs and a pad to stay dry. In fact I could see the outline of the pad under the stretched fabric. Carla wasn’t using a pad but otherwise was wearing the same briefs as Emily; I guess they had bought them on one of their shopping trips. I loved watching the two of them together, looking both so similar and so different; almost the same height, with almost identically-sized baby bumps; my wife with her dusky skin, her petite (but growing) breasts, her long, dark, kinky hair; my sister with her short hair, bleached and dyed purple, her heavy, swollen breasts, her pale skin. I couldn’t help but wonder what Emily looked like down there now. From those years of looking up close, touching, smelling, even tasting, I knew my sister’s genitalia better than anyone’s except Carla’s — they were burned into my memory. I could still recall everything vividly, the look, the feel, the odors. But it had been almost two decades since those encounters. As used as I was now to seeing Emily’s naked breasts — I’d long since stopped pretending not to look, and merely tried to divide my gaze equitably between Emily and Carla — she hadn’t been fully naked in front of me the whole time she’d been staying with us. I had no idea whether Carla had seen her nude — almost certainly yes, I thought; they probably tried on stuff all the time when I wasn’t around. The thought of them both nude together, looking at each other — maybe even touching — was tantalizing.

That evening, I cooked a nice dinner, this time with bold but fairly conventional flavors — the weird food cravings seemed to have tapered off — and afterwards we sat together on the couch, watching TV and talking. Emily was sitting right up close to Carla, even leaning on her a bit, and the sight of them touching each other, even in such a superficial, innocent way was driving me crazy. I felt like the three of us were a pile of tinder ready to catch fire, although I was realistic enough to consider that it might all be in my head. I briefly considered trying to find a softcore porn movie such as Emily and I used to watch, passing it off as a joke; but I chickened out. I didn’t want to force anything and besides I wasn’t even sure if there was softcore porn on cable any more. Instead I slung my arm nonchalantly around Carla’s shoulders, allowing my hand to rest on Emily’s neck. The first contact felt like a little bit of electricity in my fingertips. We all shifted a little, comfortably, Carla sliding a little closer to me, and Emily snuggling in just a bit to Carla, giving me more reach with my hands. I could almost have brushed the top of Emily’s bare breasts, but instead I began to massage the back of her neck lightly. She made low, appreciative noises. Carla obviously had to be aware of what I was doing; I wasn’t being furtive about it, but I was intentionally avoiding any overtly erotic contact. A guy could massage his sister’s neck, no, especially if we were already all so comfy together? I put my other hand on Carla’s baby bump. I figured I could be a little more forward with my own wife. Slowly, I rubbed her belly in widening circles. After a while, I began to graze the bottom of her breasts and the top of her briefs.

Emily, I noticed, was side-eying my hand on Carla’s belly. I was sneaking glimpses at Emily watching Carla. Carla seemed to be paying more and more attention to the tent in my shorts. The TV was blaring away, oblivious to what was going on on the couch in front of it. Its role was to provide a plausible alibi. I shifted my right hand action up a little so that I was caressing Carla’s breasts as much as her belly. Her long brown nipples were stiff and she was breathing noticeably quicker. I thought, as I often had, about how beautiful she was. How had I ended up with someone so stunning? Emily had told me the first time she’d met Carla, when we were dating, that I’d better marry her or she’d call me an idiot and kick my ass. She was right and I proposed a few months later. They’d always gotten along. Emily was definitely watching Carla now. I realized I’d always known she was attracted to Carla. How could she not be, my own flesh and blood, half of the same genes as me if I remembered high school biology correctly? Actually, how could anyone not be attracted to Carla? I was totally OK, I decided, with the two of them touching each other more intimately. If they wanted to. I wasn’t sure if either of them was going to move first, though. Finally, I took a deep figurative breath, reached over Carla and grabbed Emily’s left hand and put it right down on Carla’s belly. I figured I’d plead momentary insanity if either of them yelped, or else claim that I just thought it made a nice artistic tableau to have the aunt put her hand on her future niece or nephew (we didn’t know yet) in utero. All that happened, though, was that Emily began to rub Carla’s tummy, and Carla said “Mmmmmm ... that feels nice” and I ceded the belly territory to Emily and began to concentrate on Carla’s breasts and the tent in my shorts grew taller and the TV kept pretending we were all watching it.

We kept positions for what seemed like forever but was probably only five minutes or so. Carla was going quietly crazy. She was making intermittent low growling noises and alternately opening and closing her thighs a little. I could see a light wet spot on her briefs whenever her thighs were open. I recognized the symptoms; if we weren’t careful she was going to jump me — or Emily maybe? — right then and there. Emily was also heavily aroused. I knew, because I could smell her. I hadn’t smelled that scent for almost twenty years, but like madeleines or something it transported me right back to the memory of kneeling in front of my sister, my face right up near her vulva as she masturbated. It was her scent, unique in the world. I could sense Carla’s excitement in the air too, mixing with Emily’s: a familiar earthy base note to Emily’s pungent, surprising top note. What a perfume they would make together! I wished I could bottle it and keep it forever, the way I used to try to keep Emily’s scent on my fingers each night after I touched her.

I realized the situation was unstable; Emily was still rubbing Carla’s belly, and I was feeling her breasts, but she needed more intense stimulation. I would have been fine if, say, Emily had decided at this moment to go down on her or something, but, as excited as she obviously was, I couldn’t rely on her to take that initiative before Carla exploded. I reached down, pull up Carla’s briefs by the waist, and started to pull down. She obediently lifted her butt and I pulled them down to her feet and off; my beautiful wife was sitting naked and inflamed between me and my sister. There was no going back now. Without the support of the briefs, Carla’s pregnant belly partly obscured her vulva. I put my hand down there and felt how swollen her labia were. She moaned incoherently. My fingers were sopping with her wetness. I reached up and intentionally smeared it on her breasts and nipples. Then I passed my hand near Emily’s face and back down onto Carla’s breasts. Like a moth drawn inexorably on by pheromones, Emily bent over and buried her face in Carla’s chest. As she began to lick and suck the stiff nipples, I put my hand back on Carla’s vulva, found her clitoris, and began to rub.

It was all over in a minute or so. Carla let loose with a tremendous groan and shook violently as she climaxed, her pregnant belly jiggling while her legs spasmed. When all the aftershocks were over, she looked almost catatonic. Emily and I stared at each other over her chest. Both of us were in desperate need of attention and Carla didn’t seem like she was in any condition to provide it at the moment, but the look we exchanged amounted to a kind of silent agreement that masturbating right now, next to Carla’s motionless, naked body — much less getting undressed and performing some sort of hanky-panky on each other — would be a breach of etiquette. It’s amazing what a glance can communicate. So we just watched TV a little longer, both of us snuggled up with Carla. Eventually Emily got up, yawned, and said she was turning in. I had a vivid vision of her relieving herself (in both senses) in the shower, and sure enough I heard her turn on the water a few moments later. “Carla,” I said, “let’s go to bed.” I switched off the TV and we stumbled off to our room. I stripped down quickly - Carla, of course, was already naked. I got into bed and, to my surprise, she climbed right on top of me. I’d been assuming she’d just want to go to sleep — she was a one-orgasm-a-night kind of gal, and especially after one that intense ... but no, she said in a low, intense whisper: “I have to pee. Let me pee on you.”

Huh? And here I’d been assuming that the mattress protector was to protect against Emily ... I didn’t really know how to answer. To be honest I didn’t want to be peed on right then and there; I was at best neutral about the bodily fluid itself, and even with the mattress protector it would be messy, at least if she intended to do it while kneeling on fours above me, as she was now. Maybe she wanted us to go into the bathroom? But no, she was holding me down. I had the sense she really meant business here and it was better for me not to fight it. I wasn’t sure where this was coming from. Carla hadn’t, so far as I knew, gotten any more enjoyment out of our single long-ago session of pee-play than I had. It had to be something to do with Emily and my confessions to her. Could she be ... I don’t know, jealous that I’d let my sister pee on me on the regular way back when? Especially after what had just happened on the couch, I didn’t want to stir up any rivalry or resentment. “OK, Carla, pee on me,” I said. My penis, which had relaxed a little, sprung back up instantly. Weird. Carla positioned herself a little lower over me, then, as I stared at her hanging breasts and belly, she backed up onto my shaft. Wait, I thought she was getting ready to pee on me? I ignored the apparent change in plans and put my arms around her. She swung back and forth, thrusting herself deep onto me with each backward press. I was starting to get close and wondered if I should hold myself back, or else let loose because she wasn’t going to have a second orgasm anyway. Finally I said, “Carla, I’m going to come soon,” and Carla said, “Oh, God, me too ... I need to pee ... I’m going to pee ... oh yes ... here it comes...” but it didn’t, so I held off and kept thrusting, waiting for her to make her big splash. Soon enough she began to groan and then I felt her vagina contract around me and so I came too and then suddenly there was a huge gush of warm wetness down there that wasn’t me and as I thrusted a few more times for good measure, it splashed all over the sheets. Thank God for the mattress protector, I thought.

This wasn’t really what I had been expecting when Carla had said she wanted to pee on me, but I wasn’t complaining. Far from it. Being peed on, or squirted on, or whatever (it was pee so far as I could tell) in the course of an orgasm was very different from just doing it as a kind of wet foreplay. I could get into this, I thought. But Carla had never squirted before. Indeed I’d never had any lover who had. I’d sort of figured out by now that the way Emily used to pee all over my face when she orgasmed after masturbating in front of me was, basically, what people meant when they talked about women “squirting,” but Emily was the only girl I’d known who could do that, and she and I were never technically “lovers.” (Sure, we got a bit more intimate than your typical brother and sister, perhaps.) As Carla and I basked in the afterglow (we shifted over to the other side of the king bed to avoid the drenched spot), the truth came out. She’d been so impressed, a couple weeks before, by Emily’s boast that she peed every time she came (of course Emily would boast about that to her sister-in-law, I thought; that’s Emily for ya!) that she’d asked her to demonstrate. Naturally Emily had obliged and, as Carla told it, they’d perched on the side of the bathtub and Emily had masturbated in her usual way until she let loose. Carla was quick to assure me that they hadn’t touched each other on these occasions, and it rang true, but I reassured her anyway that it would have been fine if they had. “She’s my sister,” I said, “it’s pretty much half me you’re touching anyway.” Carla giggled.

In any case, Carla had asked Emily to show her how to do it. Apparently, perhaps because her growing baby bump was pushing down on her bladder, Carla had recently often felt like she had to pee when we made love in some positions. She said that unlike Emily, who seemed to let loose with a stream every time she climaxed, she realized she could only do it when she was being penetrated deeply in certain positions. With Emily encouraging her, she’d practiced kneeling on all fours in the bathtub and plumbing herself with a dildo until she felt the urge to go (I had to wonder if it wouldn’t have been easier with Emily manning the dildo, but I held my peace), and had finally managed to have an orgasm that was accompanied by squirting all over the hard porcelain. It was during one of these sessions that Emily had revealed that she and I had also spent many occasions perched on the edge of the bathtub and kneeling inside, respectively, as we masturbated. Like brother, like sister! Carla had been super-excited that she’d mastered the art of coming and going at the same time, and, knowing that I had all these experiences with Emily in my past, couldn’t wait to demonstrate to me. Thus the mattress protector. She had been planning to surprise me tonight and, while being masturbated to orgasm by me while my sister sucked her breasts had not been part of her plan, the fact that it was “a clitoral orgasm and not a vaginal one” (so she said) meant that she was still able to pull off her surprise later. Me, I wasn’t super clear on the difference between a clitoral and a vaginal orgasm; I was just thrilled that she had enjoyed two huge climaxes in a single evening. It seemed to herald the possibility of twice the fun in the future.

I was a tiny bit disappointed, though, that the mattress protector hadn’t been meant to shield our bed from Emily’s emanations, after all. And I felt a bit guilty. I realized that I’d been assuming all along that Carla clearly wanted to play with Emily — maybe, if I was lucky, even wanted me to play along — and I’d used that assumption to justify getting Emily involved on the couch, when I hadn’t even consulted with Carla first. That wasn’t really fair of me. I decided I’d better be proactive about it. “Carla ... um, I’m sorry about tonight on the couch. I should have asked you before starting anything with Emily there, let alone pulling her in.” “Oh, don’t be silly,” Carla said. “Can’t you tell she’s been trying to start something for ages?” “Well ... sure, but I should have asked you first.” “I was planning to ask you, except you got mad before and I thought you were uncomfortable about it.” I tried to remember when I’d gotten mad. I didn’t think I had. “Carla,” I said earnestly, “I promise you if you want to do something with Emily, I am completely OK with that. She’s my sister, I love you both. I know she’s attracted to you, that’s blindingly obvious. If you feel the same way, you should go for it.” Carla was silent for a moment, then replied, equally earnestly: “Look. I know Em has the hots for me. She’s been very good about it. I mean, I could tell when we were comparing our breasts that she really wanted to do more” — she giggled — “but she’s never made a pass at me. We had a lot of fun masturbating together, but I started that, and she didn’t try to touch me. But when she told me what you guys used to do, I dunno, it was pretty hot. I think it would be fun do, I don’t know, something together. All three of us. I mean, even more than we did tonight. While we still can, before the babies are born. I’m not going to go off and do something with her behind your back, I’m not interested in that.”

I pondered all that for a minute or so, looking for a reason why this might not be the most perfect offer every extended in the history of the universe. Unable to find an objection, I simply said: “Ok, Carla-cat. Tomorrow, if you still feel the same way, we’ll see how Emily feels about it.” She kissed me, and, too tired to bother taking off the sheets, we turned off the light and fell asleep.

The next day, Emily definitely seemed somewhat abashed at the breakfast table — an uncharacteristic demeanor for her. I hoped that she wasn’t regretting what we’d done the night before. What a disappointment it would be if, with Carla all enthusiastic about a threesome with my sister, it were Emily in the end who scuttled the plans! But Carla took up the slack, bringing up sexual innuendoes non-stop, and by the end of breakfast Emily seemed a bit more herself. As we cleared the plates, Carla said, slyly, “Hey guys, considering how, you know, ... close we all got last night, it seems unfair that you both kept your bottoms on and only I got naked. Maybe we should all just go nude today?” Emily protested that she needed her briefs and pad in case she leaked a little urine. “Oh come on, Em,” Carla said, “a few drops here and there? It’s not going to matter, just put a towel under you when you sit.” Emily shrugged and took off her briefs, and just like that, I was seeing my sister fully nude for the first time in two decades. She looked good, I had to admit. She had a full bush, an unruly shock of light hair that was far bigger than I’d remembered even when I’d last seen her. She wasn’t being shy any more; she twirled around, intentionally striking silly poses, apparently for my benefit; Carla, I had to remind myself, had of course already seen her in her altogether quite a bit recently. I felt myself rising, remembering so much exploration of her body, so long ago. What it was to see it now, all grown up and pregnant. Carla shimmied out of her briefs and came over to me. “Hey, you’re not getting away with keeping these on” She began to pull down my pajamas. I didn’t bother trying to hide my excitement as she pulled my underwear down as well. I took off my pajama tops, and there we were, all standing around naked.